"Never mind. I found out. We always find out. Now, what's the story, George?"

"I'll find out who leaked that to you, Wilbur. And then I'll roast their balls on a spit."

Curtis shook his head. These guys were all alike. Everyone in the White House was on an ego trip, trying to be the top banana, all the while keeping the Pentagon, and most especially the Joint Chiefs of Staff, out of the loop. Typical. Wilbur Curtis, fourth-generation graduate of the Citadel, four-star General of the Air Force, swore if any of his own seven children ever went into politics he'd wring their neck.

Curtis looked straight at Russell. "Roast whomever you want, but do you or do you not have information on one of my troops being held in Vilnius, Lithuania, by the KGB?"

Russell ignored the question. Instead he peered out of one of the 747's oval windows: darkness, but far below, the tiny, twinkling lights of an American city. Finally, he turned back to General Curtis, still shaken by the lack of internal security that was often apparent in the White House.

"This is a DCI matter, Wilbur, not your concern."

Curtis tore off the end of a cigar, hunting for a match. "That's bullshit and you know it. Do you know who this prisoner is? He was part of a very special, select operation, a man who risked everything to prevent World War Three!"

"I know who REDTAIL HAWK is, Wilbur, but how the hell do you know who he is? What does he have to do with the Joint Chiefs?"

"Didn't you ever read the Old Dog file?" asked Curtis, chomping on his cigar. "Anyone ever tell you about that mission?"

Russell rolled his eyes, sipping now cold coffee. "I've never heard of this Old Dog or whatever you're talking about, Wilbur. What I do know is we've got a former Air Force officer, a B-52 crew member at that, who Probably knows more about the Single Integrated Operations Plan and nuclear warfighting than I do. Now he's over there, in a KGB-run facility, Posing as a Soviet scientist, helping a group of hard-liners build a stealth bomber. I didn't send him there, you didn't send him there, so he's not Working for us. Which means he's working for them, spilling his guts."

Curtis jabbed out his cigar in a nearby ashtray, frustrated by the cut~anddry attitude of politicians like Russell. There was never enough tifl1e~or interest-by the people sitting in the ever-changing seat of

power in Washington to learn about the projects and details of the past. The Old Dog mission was only a few years old and already it was long forgotten by the very ones who should remember it. The flight of the Old Dog was a mission that had driven everyone involved in the episode into virtual isolation at HAWC. Not to mention the isolation David Luger had suffered behind the walls of Fisikous. Even if Luger was helping at the Institute, Curtis knew him as well as his own sons. Curtis was sure Luger's cooperation wasn't of his own volition.